


The love that we could have had

by wcsteland



Series: The love of Mycroft and Greg [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Greg is devasted, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Johns the only one with a clear head somehow, M/M, Mycroft dies... Maybe, Sherlock Series 4 Spoilers, Sherlock is to blame, Violence, alternative ending, everyone is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9340793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wcsteland/pseuds/wcsteland
Summary: What if Mycroft was about to die and this is Greg's only chance to say everything he ever wanted?  Also, he blames Sherlock for Mycroft's condition.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! This contains spoilers for "The Final Problem"! Not major ones really but still! Do not read. If you do, its on your own risk! 
> 
> Also this is an alternative ending to the scene where Sherlock has to choose between John and Mycroft!
> 
> Thank you for reading and please point out mistakes. And I'm sorry if it seems rushed at some parts, I wrote this all in one day and had to write everything down that came to my mind. The medical mentions could be wrong since I'm not a doctor!

Greg was sitting up right when he hear what the person on the other end said. Mycroft was shot. Not by some enemy, no. He got shot by his own brother. 

The DI thought about all the scenarios that could have led up to Sherlock shooting at his own brother while getting dressed as fast as he could. He had to get to the Hospital before anything worse happens. 

Greg got the necessary things and made his way to the high class hospital Mycroft was admitted to. If he'd lost the younger man now, he wouldn't know what he'd do. Greg has so much to tell Mycroft and just the thought about not being able to do that anymore, scared him. 

Lestrade knew that he should have told the other man about his feelings for him sooner but he was just a normal copper. No one would want a old man with a job that mostly consumed his time. And even though, Mycroft had a busy job himself, Greg doubt that the ginger haired man would actually have feelings for him. After all, he's not a high class, elegant guy like Mycroft.

The drive to the hospital seemed longer than ever. He knew the way from the times, he found Sherlock on the streets being high as hell. That's when a thought struck him; What if Sherlock's using again? Could he be that high to shoot Mycroft? 

Alone that thought made Greg fume with anger. If Sherlock really was using again after everything Mycroft has done for him, he better not show up at the Hospital or else, Greg would beat the living shite out of him.

When he got to the hospital, he held up his badge and asked for Mycroft Holmes. The nurse leading him to the room stayed silent but her posture got more and more sniff the closer they got. She opened the door and let him in. 

The doctor in the room looked at him and Greg only held up his badge again. "I'm sorry but Mr. Holmes isn't able to talk. He's still unconscious. You could try to talk to him, he might hear you but I can't be sure." 

The DI only looked at Mycroft laying on the hospital bed. The younger man was pale and his body seemed relaxed. Greg had to swallow the lump in his throat at the sight of the man, he just didn't look like the British Government that Greg knew and loved. "Will he make it?" He whispered to the doctor still in the room. 

"We can't be sure yet. The bullet just missed his heart but destroyed a Artery close by it. We managed to stop the bleeding and pull the bullet out but like I said, we can't be sure. Patients with bullet wounds tend to collapse pretty easily, especially with a bullet wound so close to the heart. I'm going to let you alone with him, Sir." 

Greg nodded and processed everything the doctor said. Mycroft could still die, he could just be gone one moment. The silver haired man sat down on the chair that was provided next to the bed and took Mycroft's hand. 

His hand was cold and pale as well, it seemed so lifeless. Subconsciously, Greg started to rub the hand with his thumb, feeling every vein under his finger. 

"Mycroft..." Lestrade whispered, unable to be louder than that. "I don't know if you can hear me but-" A sigh left the DI's lips. Where should he start with his feelings? 

Greg looked down at their hands, still rubbing the cold hand gently. "You might not hear me and that's okay but I've got so much to tell you. I don't know where I should start." Another sigh. 

"We've known each other for more than a decade already and I honestly don't know why you're still talking to me. Sherlock's fine.. Well, as fine as he can be at the moment. Anyway, over the years that we talked and met, I always admired your strength and love for your brother, even though you don't like to admit that to yourself." Greg lifted their hands and kissed the back of Mycroft's hand before leaning his forehead against them. 

"And along those years, I fell for you. Every time we met, I sat there and tried to stop my heart from beating so fast or the blush that creeped up on me whenever you caught me staring at you. God, how I love to just look at you and see what you're like. No matter if it's your professional side or your caring one. I loved to just sit and get to know you without you even noticing that." He smiled softly at the memories. 

"I remember the first time we met. I found Sherlock on the streets with his mind as high as he possibly could get. When I phones you to tell you about Sherlock, I thought 'What a cold git' because you're voice was so cold and emotionless. But then I saw you almost running, that was probably also the only time I ever saw you running, towards me. The worried look in your eyes is still present in my mind whenever I see you with Sherlock. Sometimes, I thought I even saw that look when he was perfectly fine standing next to you."

Greg looked back up at Mycroft's unmoving face. Slowly, he lifted his other hand to the man's face, cupping his cheek and stroking the bone under his finger.

"God, Mycroft. You made me see so many things. You made me value the things that I have because of how you lost your brother in some way but still care so deeply about him." The DI took a deep breath just as the door opened, revealing Sherlock. 

Sherlock stood still in the door, looking at his lifeless looking brother. The curly haired man took a step into the room. "Don't." Greg warned, only receiving a look. 

"He's my brother, Greg. I'm allowed to see him." Sherlock said, his voice slightly quivering. 

Greg snickered darkly. "Oh no, you're not. You fucking shot him! I don't care if you where high or not but you didn't have to shoot him! Get out!" He raised his voice a bit. "He doesn't need you right now. You hurt him too much already." 

Sherlock stared at him but stayed silent. Greg looked at him before looking back at the man on the bed. 

The silver haired man thought that Sherlock left but was startled when the man started to talk. "I wasn't high. Our sister played a game with us and she made me shot either Mycroft or John." 

"And instead of not choosing one, you almost killed Mycroft. He might not survive, do you know that?" Greg glared at Sherlock. 

Sherlock looked away. "I didn't and I didn't mean to shot him. He said those things about John, he played with me. Mycroft made me shot him." 

Greg shook his head and placed his head on Mycroft's side. "Please take care of him, Greg. And tell him that I'm sorry and that I'm here if he needs me." With that, Sherlock left the room, leaving an angry Lestrade behind.

The silver haired man stood up and threw the chair across the room before pushing a wall. He knew he was being ridiculous but he just felt so much anger towards the younger Holmes. 

A nurse came in at the sounds. "Sir? Is everything alright?" Greg looked at her. "Uh yeah, just-" He shrugged and looked at his bleeding hand. 

"Let me clean and bandage that up for you, Sir." She walked out and came back with bandages. Making quick work, she cleaned and wrapped his hand up. 

"I'm sorry about the wall. I'll pay for the repair somehow." The DI said quietly as the nurse made her way to the door. "You don't have to." Was all she said before exiting the room. 

Greg sighed and looked at Mycroft from his spot at the end of the bed. He knew he should get over with it. 

The silver haired man grabbed the chair and sat down, taking Mycroft's hand again. "I should tell you why I'm here exactly, shouldn't I?" A soft chuckled left his lips. 

He lifted Mycroft's hand again and placed it against his cheek, feeling a kind of comfort from the touch. "When I heard you where shot, I was so worried. I still am honestly. I knew that I had to get here before it would be too late.." He trailed off. 

Greg had to fight back the stinking of the tears in his eyes. He couldn't bear to think about Mycroft dying. 

"If you'd die, I just want you to know that I love you. I always have, ever since I first met you that night in this hospital." He whispered and closed his eyes, the tears streaming down his face.

Greg didn't know how long he sat there crying but nurses and doctors came rushing in. "You have to leave, please." A nurse said to him in a hurry, pushing him out of the room. 

Just now Lestrade realised the loud beeping sounds in the room. As the door closed shut in his face, he felt himself sack together. Greg felt arms around his waist and a soft voice whispering into his ear, "Now is not the time to shut down, Greg." John. He recognised John's voice. 

The love of his life was in that room about to die, how could someone not shut down? The silver haired man felt how John lifted him up but nothing more. His mind was too focused on the man inside that room. If Mycroft died right now, Greg wouldn't know what to do. Probably die inside himself. 

He tried to look around but his vision wouldn't focus due to the tears still streaming down his face. "I have... I have to get back in there. He can't just die - he can't just l-leave me, John." Greg whispered, stumbling over his words. "I just told him that... that-" Before he could finish, the world around him was going black. 

His body shut down, trying to save him from the shock and the pain.

* * *

It felt like hours before his eyes opened again. The bright lights made him shut them immediately again. "M-mycroft?" He whispered into the room. Greg willed his eyes to open again, adjusting to the light. His head felt heavy and was spinning when he tried to sit up. 

"Hey, hey. Don't move, Greg. You've been out for twenty minutes. How are you feeling?" The face that belong to John was in his sight, a worried look on it. 

Greg groaned at the parts that he remember. "Is he..." He couldn't finish, his throat closing around the last word. John shook his head and smiled a bit. "He never was about to die Greg." 

That made Greg frown. But the beeping and all the doctors and nurses. It all spoke for Mycroft dying. As if reading his thoughts, John said, "He was waking up and his heart freak out a little because of his panic and the pain from the wound." 

The DI sighed in relief. "Can I see him?" He tried to sat up again, this time managing to do so. Greg looked around, his eyes landing on a curled up Sherlock laying on the chairs of the waiting room. Then his gaze moved towards the door of Mycroft's room and seeing it a little ajar. "Go on, I'll make sure that no one gets in." 

Greg nodded and walked over to the door, his legs still unsteady. He knocked on the door gently and received a quiet, "Mmh?" as an answer. 

Lestrade took a deep breath before walking into the room. His eyes fell on Mycroft, still laying in the bed but looking a bit more like himself. Mycroft's skin face back to it's normal colour almost and his eyes a bit open. Obviously on pain killers. 

Mycroft looked back at him, his face resembling a bit of a deer caught in headlights. "Gregory, what are you doing here?" He coaxed out. Greg made quick move by holding out a cup of water with a straw. "Here." He sat down on the chair again.

The younger man drank greedily. "Thank you." His voice being a bit smoother again, but still having the rough edges from not being used in a while. The DI watched him carefully, not believing his own mind. He must have stared off for a while, a hand on his startling him. 

"Gregory? Are you okay?" Mycroft sounded concerned, a worried look on his face. Why is everyone worried about him? He's not the one laying in a hospital bed after all. "John told me what happened earlier." 

Greg nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine now. I'm just glad you're here." He smiled a bit. Mycroft's worried expression didn't change. "I've heard what you said to me." The ginger haired man stated gently. 

"You did?" The DI blushed a crimson shade. Greg rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his other hand still covered by Mycroft's. 

Mycroft nodded. "Did you mean it? That you love me?" All Greg could do was nod, closing his eyes in fear of the rejection he knew was about to come. But that never came. The silver haired man only felt Mycroft's hand squeeze his. 

Lestrade looked at the younger man. Mycroft had a soft expression this time, his face and body looking relaxed. "That's good because I love you too." He whispered, his eyelids falling shut. 

"Sleep. We can talk later." Greg turned his hand in Mycroft's, lacing their fingers together. He lifted their hands, kissing the back of Mycroft's hand. 

Mycroft let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. "Gregory?" Greg looked at him. "Yes?" Mycroft's hand moved out of it's place in Greg's and placed itself on the older mans cheek. "There's no more need for tears." 

The DI frowned and touched his own face, feeling the wetness on his cheeks. "I didn't notice." 

"You've been crying since you walked in here." Mycroft said softly. Greg nodded. "I'll try my best but I can't make promises. You scared me, you know?" 

Mycroft's face turned into a grimace. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. You should know, that when Sherlock shot me the only thing what I could think of was you and how I missed my chance with a man like you, Gregory." The pale grey eyes moved up to Greg's own. 

A soft smile spread out on Greg's face. "Now you get you're chance and I get mine." He leaned over Mycroft and kissed the mans forehead. "You should rest, we got the rest of our lives to talk more." 

The younger man smiled back as best as he could before closing his eyes and falling asleep. His hand falling back into Greg's. 

The next time he woke up with less panic and pain but more with a feeling of being content finally. All because of the sleeping DI next to his bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos! I appreciate them. x


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